


Born in the Purple

by porthos



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Minor Choi Youngjae/Park Jinyoung | Jr., Minor Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung | Jr., Minor Park Jinyoung | Jr./Mark Tuan, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 23:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porthos/pseuds/porthos
Summary: To be "born in the purple" is often seen as a limitation to be escaped rather than a benefit or a blessing. A modern royal AU in which Crown Prince Park Jinyoung must marry to become a king.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blooshboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blooshboy/gifts).



> Written for the 2017 got-hyung fic exchange. I watched _Princess Diaries_ and _Princess Diaries II_ for inspiration and research, so credit where it's due. :)

The room was dark and ominous, dimly lit by the moon, when Jinyoung arrived.

"Father?" he whispered.

There was no response, and for a moment Jinyoung almost feared that he was too late. He took a step closer, his heart in his throat, when the person ensconced in the bed coughed weakly and murmured, "Jinyoungie?"

Jinyoung let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Oh, Father," he said and rushed the last few paces to sit at his father's side. Jinyoung clasped one of the old man's clammy hands between his warm, steady ones and gazed down at King Park Jinyoung I.

He didn't understand.

Two weeks ago Father was as hearty as he'd always been, even challenging Jinyoung to a game of hacky sack in the palace gardens on one cool, clear evening. Then Jinyoung left for Australia on a diplomatic visit, where everything went exactly as planned—until he received word that the king was suddenly gravely ill. 

Jinyoung made arrangements to come back immediately, though he didn't let himself worry much. His father would be fine. They had access to the best doctors in the country, in the world even, and they could surely fix whatever was ailing the king. He didn't even know _what_ illness they were dealing with; his father's aide had been extremely vague on the call.

Looking down at his father now, he couldn't reconcile the image with the man he'd known his entire life. The king was pale and perspiring, his lips were chapped, and he seemed smaller than Jinyoung ever imagined he could be. 

"Father . . ." Jinyoung swallowed. "It's me, Father. It's Jinyoungie."

The king struggled to keep his eyes open. "Jinyoung-ah . . . you're home."

"Yes. What happened, Father?"

Father just shook his head between bouts of coughing. "I don't have a lot of time left," he managed to say.

"No," Jinyoung said, holding his father's hand tightly. "That's not true. We can fix it, Father, whatever it is. We'll fix it. You'll get better. What is it? What's wrong?"

"Listen to me," Father only said, trying to tug him closer. Jinyoung yielded, leaning down to hear the quiet request. "Listen. There's something . . . you must do before you . . . take my place . . ." 

"No," Jinyoung repeated, already shaking his head.

". . . and become king."

"No, Father."

"Promise me," said the king, his eyes now brimming with tears. "Promise me, Jinyoung-ah, that you'll marry. For my sake . . . and for our country's . . . promise me that you'll marry soon and take the throne."

Born and raised a prince, Jinyoung didn't lose his composure often, but in that moment, faced with his father's sudden mortality, he did. Jinyoung buried his head in his dying father's chest, feeling all of three instead of his twenty-three years.

"I'm not ready," he cried. "I can't."

"You are," said Father, patting his head gently. "You can. You will, my son."

Jinyoung allowed himself a few minutes to linger in his father's embrace, trying to gather his emotions. Finally, he sniffled and drew himself up slowly. He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. "How long? How long do you have until—what is it, what's _wrong_?"

"Mo—" Father started to say before he was wracked with more coughing. Jinyoung hastened to give him some water while his mind also began to race. It sounded like Father was saying _months_ , but he couldn't believe it. How could they possibly have so little time left? 

"Jinyoung-ah . . . I want to see you married. I want to see you . . .  crowned. Before my time is up. Promise me."

"Father . . ."

"Please."

What else could he say to that? To a man's last wish?

Jinyoung took his father's hand again. "I promise," he said.

"Within three months."

Jinyoung felt his stomach sink. Three months and he would lose his father? Three months and he would be king. Three months and he would be someone's _husband!_ Three months. It was an extremely short amount of time to begin a courtship, enter an engagement, and plan for a royal wedding. Forget finding his true love; love wasn't on the timetable. All the while he would also have to prepare for the crown—not that Jinyoung hadn't been preparing for it since birth, but there would be a _process_ now—continue his official duties, and cope with Father's mysterious illness. 

And grieve.

It was almost too much for him to handle, and Jinyoung wanted desperately to quit. Take back his promise, abdicate the throne, run away to a place where his world wouldn't completely turn upside down in _three months_. Wanted to say: You can't die. I need you. I'm not ready. I never asked for this life. And what about love? I deserve to be loved. I want to love.

He wanted to . . . 

But he couldn't. He wouldn't. 

Jinyoung closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his gaze held the solemn pledge of a picture-perfect prince.

"As you wish, Father. I promise that within three months I will marry . . . and become the king you raised me to be. I will . . . make you proud."

  


♚

  


"You're getting _what_?" Yugyeom asked, exactly as Bambam shouted, "MARRIED?"

Jinyoung rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on. "Yes," he said. "I am to be married."

" _When_?" Bambam demanded, right when Yugyeom sputtered, "B-but to whom?"

"Three months. And . . . I don't know."

Now they were speechless. After a moment, Yugyeom sighed and held his shoulder. "What are you going to do, hyung?"

Jinyoung didn't know the answer to that either. After leaving Father in the care of his nurses, he'd met with Jang Wooyoung, the Lord Chamberlain, to advise him of the king's condition and discuss state business. Jinyoung had known Wooyoung since he was a boy and trusted him explicitly. 

Together, they'd come up with a plan to tell the House of Lords about the king's desire to step down in the interest of his health, though they wouldn't reveal the exact nature of it yet. Part of Jinyoung was hoping that his father could still recover, and Wooyoung agreed that they never knew what could happen in the next few months. Beyond that, it would cause unnecessary panic and destabilize the entire country if people thought their king was dying. 

As the crown prince, Jinyoung would serve as de facto head of state while Wooyoung would direct and manage preparations for his official accession and coronation. These processes would be much more rushed than usual—but, then again, nothing about their situation was usual.

Then there was the matter of his marriage. Unlike with issues of the state and the royal household, the Chamberlain couldn't assist Jinyoung there, except to remind him, unhelpfully, that the bylaws of their country indeed required him to be married before ascending the throne. Jinyoung, who of course knew the bylaws by heart, also knew what he _had_ to do, but _how_ he was going to do it was another question.

How was he going to find someone he could marry in a few months?

It wasn't that Jinyoung had never dated before or had zero experiences with affairs of the heart—not that his heart was a big factor here, since Jinyoung had decided to approach this whole thing as pragmatically as possible. It was the only way he could go through with it. But he wasn't in a relationship at the moment and could not come up with any realistic spousal prospects. He had a small number of friends and only a slightly larger pool of acquaintances, but how many of them happened to be someone who a) had noble blood, b) could withstand both the public scrutiny and the private vetting that would come with being the king's potential partner, and c) wanted to marry _him_ at all? 

Would he be desperate enough to hold a ball like Cinderella's prince? Draw a name out of a hat? Go outside, point to the first person he sees, and get down on one knee?

He'd been pacing back and forth in his study, ruminating on the absurdity of those options, when Yugyeom and Bambam had burst in, having heard that he was home. For a moment, Jinyoung simply stared, grateful that he hadn't gone with the last idea—merely the image of proposing to either of them had him thinking he would rather renounce the throne. But he saw their excited little faces and heard their eager greetings and couldn't help but feel a little relieved that they came.

They were some of his closest confidantes, his cousin Yugyeom and Yugyeom's best friend Bambam—a Thai prince so uninterested his family's business that he actually spent most of his life in Korea. They grew up together here in palace, and while Yugyeom and Bambam were much younger than Jinyoung and had their own special relationship that he never completely comprehended, they all loved and respected one another very much. Even if Jinyoung wanted to kill them sometimes.

(He probably _could_ , as the crown prince. Anyway.)

He'd filled them in on what happened and what he must do. But . . .

_What are you going to do, hyung?_

"I haven't figured that out yet," Jinyoung said, finally. 

Yugyeom frowned. "You don't have a lot of time." When Jinyoung just looked at him, Yugyeom murmured, "Sorry, hyung. Not helpful, I know."

"I know!" Bambam suddenly exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I have the answer right here." He unlocked his ever-present phone and started tapping away at it.

"What are you doing?" Yugyeom asked curiously. "You're not searching something like _how to get married in thirty days_ , are you, because I don't think that's going to help us here. Probably."

Us. Jinyoung almost managed a small smile, wondering how this became an _us_ problem instead of just _his_ problem. But that was classic Yugyeom, always the most empathetic person in the room. And—he glanced at the other boy, lips curling a little more—also classic Bambam, who didn't believe there was anything out there he couldn't find in his phone. It was sweet and naive, how they were trying to help him, but Jinyoung didn't think Bambam could actually find him a consort in a just few clicks.

"Done!" Bambam said after a few minutes, looking up smugly. "I just signed you up for Purpl."

"Purple?" Jinyoung and Yugyeom echoed, glancing at each other.

Bambam rolled his eyes. "Not purple, _Purpl_."

Jinyoung stared at him.

"I don't get it," Yugyeom said slowly.

"P-U-R-P-L," Bambam enunciated. "Purpl. Here, look." He held up his phone, turning the screen toward them. A bright, garish wall of violet suddenly assaulted Jinyoung's eyes.

"It's a dating app," Bambam explained, "for young, single royals and nobles worldwide. I think some politicians and chaebols might've sneaked on here too, not sure. But it's basically _the_ dating app for, well, people like us."

Jinyoung had no idea what to say. Next to him, Yugyeom looked similarly dumbfounded.

Bambam, on the other hand, was nearly bouncing. "Don't you see? This is it! You can use this to find your husband!"

All of a sudden Jinyoung's headache returned. "I don't know, Bam-ah . . ."

"Just give it try, hyung," Bambam whined, shaking the phone at him. "Go on a few dates, meet some people. What do you have to lose?"

What a loaded question.

_My father_ , Jinyoung thought. _My country._

Everything. He would lose everything, and disappoint his father's last wish, if he didn't keep his promise.

He had three months and no better idea at the moment.

"Okay," he agreed with a sigh. "Tell me more about this . . . pur-plup."

"It's Purpl!"

  


♚

  


Jinyoung met Bambam and Yugyeom in his study again the next morning. He posed for photos per their direction—turning this way and that to catch the light, casually leaning against the tall stained glass windows and holding books as props—and tried to pretend he wasn't doubting every single moment of this charade. Still, he let them upload his pictures to the app and watched as they swiped through candidate after candidate, citing one reason or another when they "hearted" someone or passed.

They showed him, too, the profiles of these "young, single royals and nobles worldwide," but after the fourth, fifth, sixth . . . they all blurred together and Jinyoung would only hum noncommittally each time, leaving Bambam and Yugyeom to play matchmaker gleefully. What difference would it make, he thought, whomever they picked? He'd accepted that he would marry for duty, not love, so it didn't matter much if he was paired with any Tom, Dick, or Harry.

"Well, Harry is dating an American actress right now, so you're shit of luck," Bambam commented when Jinyoung said as much. "And I don't know any Toms or Dicks, but hey, what about Mark?"

"Zuckerberg?" Yugyeom asked, trying to peer at the screen. "He's on here?"

"Not Zuckerberg," Bambam said blithely, "Tuan!"

Jinyoung sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued for the first time. 

"No way," Yugyeom said.

" _Way_ ," Bambam mimicked, tilting his phone to show them. "Mr. Son of POTUS himself."

Jinyoung _knew_ Mark Tuan, who would have been one of those people he'd placed in the "pool of acquaintances" category when going over his marital prospects yesterday, if he'd thought of him at all. Why hadn't he?

Well, Mark wasn't technically a noble, so maybe that was the reason, but surely being the third child and eldest son of President Raymond Tuan counted for something? He was American royalty, for all intents and purposes, and Americans _loved_ their current First Family, even more than they loved the Kardashians. (Yes, Bambam made all of them keep up with the Kardash' whenever they had free time.)

"He's hot," Bambam said.

"Pretty," Yugyeom agreed. Jinyoung thought so too, but he didn't say anything as Yugyeom swiped to see more photos. "Looks like he has a sense of humor, which is good. Who's this guy in half his photos, though?"

"Dunno," Bambam said, "best friend? Boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" Yugyeom laughed. "Why would he put pictures of his boyfriend, ex or not, on his dating profile?"

Bambam shrugged. "Does any of it make sense? Why would he put pics with his best friend?"

"I would put pictures of us on my profile," Yugyeom said matter-of-factly. "If I had one."

"Aww," Bambam cooed. "Me too."

Jinyoung coughed as they spontaneously performed their secret handshake, which hadn't been secret to him—or anyone in the palace—for at least fifteen years. "Guys . . . matter of national importance here."

"Oh, sorry, hyung," Yugyeom said.

"So?" Bambam asked, passing his phone to Jinyoung. "Mark Tuan. What do you think?"

Jinyoung thumbed through Mark's profile, but his mind was already moving past the meager offerings it held. He already knew that Mark was handsome; he didn't need the app to tell him that. He knew that Mark was quiet but friendly whenever they met, and Jinyoung knew that he was attracted to him.

Was any of that basis enough for a marriage?

No, but it was a start.

Jinyoung tapped on the heart button and watched it bloom on the screen.

"It's a match!" Bambam squealed, snatching his phone back. "He hearts you too."

Jinyoung smiled, closed-lips but—surprisingly—pleased.

  


♚

  


There was no way any meeting between the Crown Prince of South Korea and the First Son of the United States could have been an entirely clandestine affair, but Jinyoung still didn't expect the number of reporters, paparazzi, and miscellaneous royal family enthusiasts who greeted them at the entrance of the restaurant.

"How did they even find us," Jinyoung muttered as they were unbuckling their seatbelts.

Mark raised an eyebrow before glancing around them. "I suppose this isn't the most covert vehicle of choice," he said lightly. His Korean was accented but quite proficient.

Jinyoung deflated, remembering the national seal and flags on the hood of the limousine. "I suppose not. I'm sorry, maybe I should have—"

But Mark only smiled and slid his fingers atop Jinyoung's easily. He gave them a brief squeeze. "Don't worry about it. Come on."

Surprised by Mark's touch, Jinyoung simply followed him out of the car. The cameras started flashing as soon as they alighted, the clicks of the shutters amplifying the shouts of the crowd.

"MARKEU! MARKEU! OH MY GOD MARKEU I LOVE YOU."

"JINYOUNG-AH YOU'RE SO HANDSOME."

"ARE YOU DATING? EXCUSE ME, _DISPATCH_ HERE, CAN YOU CONFIRM?"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE MARKJIN IS REAL."

"MAAARK MARRY MEEE."

Smiling and waving came as automatically to Jinyoung as breathing, so that was what he did. He noticed, however, that Mark only nodded politely in a few directions before heading straight into the restaurant. Jinyoung wasn't sure if he should be impressed by how cool Mark seemed or dismayed by his utter Americanness, so he just finished his last round of greetings before following suit.  

The cacophony outside became nothing more than a slight buzzing as they ventured into the heart of the restaurant, where a table was already waiting for them. Of course, they would be the only patrons here tonight. Jinyoung was the one to invite Mark out, so he'd planned the date. With the guards stationed by the door and the lone server quietly taking care of them, slipping in and out of the room as needed, it was sure to be a private and intimate event.

Jinyoung had thought it would be best that way, for them to get to know each other better, but now, sitting down across from Mark, he wasn't so sure. They'd made a little small talk in the car on the way here, but dinner conversation was a different beast—especially one with romantic aspirations. Plus, Mark had caught him off-guard a few times tonight already, and he just didn't know what to expect.

It turned out he didn't have to worry. They chatted easily in a mix of Korean and English about a wide range of topics, from interests to studies to politics and beyond. Mark was attending international trade and diplomacy seminars at Korea University and delighted in teasing Jinyoung, a proud Yonsei alumnus, about the recent humiliation at KoYon Jeon. 

Aside from that, each was patient and attentive when the other paused to search for the right word or struggled to grasp a meaning. Lapses between conversations were comfortably silent, especially as they enjoyed the scrumptious food and flowing wine, and toward the end of the evening, Jinyoung was pleasantly flushed and feeling like he was having more fun than he thought was possible.

"I have to ask," he decided to say during a lull, a little coyly if he admitted it to himself.

"Mm?" Mark hummed, propping his chin up on a palm. He swayed forward ever so lightly and Jinyoung smirked, surprised that cool, American Mark was more of a lightweight between the two of them.

"Your Purple profile—"

"Purpl," Mark tried to correct him, only it came out more as a, "Ppppflt."

"Yes, that," Jinyoung agreed. "Don't laugh, but I was browsing it with my friends—well, my cousin and his friend, who's also my friend, I guess, they both are—anyway. They were the ones who signed me up for it, incidentally, and we, um, we were looking at your profile."

"Oh?" Mark said, feigning surprise. Endearingly so, Jinyoung thought, as if he didn't know that was how they were on this date to begin with. "Were you? And what did you think?"

"I thought . . . you were exceedingly good looking."

"Thank you," Mark giggled. "You too. I liked your picture . . . with the glasses. And the book! You looked like such a cute nerd."

"Want to know a secret?" he whispered. Mark nodded. "I _am_ a cute nerd," Jinyoung flirted, making Mark laugh again. Jinyoung was emboldened. "Speaking of the pictures . . ."

"Mm."

"Tell me the story behind the one with face drawing."

Later, Jinyoung would remember this moment as the point when it all went wrong. At the time, however, he was only hoping to show his interest, hear a funny anecdote, and deepen their connection. 

Instead, Mark's pretty face crumpled.

"That . . . that picture . . ." Mark paused, and dear god, was he crying? Why was he _crying_? "My . . . my boyfriend . . ."

_Boyfriend_?

"Not boyfriend," Mark corrected himself gloomily, sniffling. "Ex-boyfriend. He . . . he—"

"No," Jinyoung hurried to say, already regretting his poor attempt at playful banter. Bambam was going to be _so_ disappointed in him when he found out. "Please, you don't have to—I shouldn't have asked."

But it was too late. The floodgates were open.

"He drew on my faaaace," Mark wailed, "when I fell asleep. H-he used to do things like that all the time, and I hated it but I loved it and I l-loved him . . . I _loved_ him so much."

"O-oh . . ." 

It was his fault. Jinyoung accepted that, so he spent the next forty-two minutes consoling a drunken, brokenhearted Mark and listening to Jackson _this_ in English and Jackson _that_ in Korean—and even Jackson _something_ in Mandarin, he was pretty sure—and resenting a man he'd never even met for leaving such a deep impression on his date. 

That was all Mark would ever be, Jinyoung realized as he handed over his monogramed pocket square, watching Mark blow his nose into it noisily. The cool, playful Mark he'd gotten to know over the course of the evening seemed to have disappeared; in his place was someone Jinyoung could not reach. There would be no second date, no courtship, no royal engagement and marriage for them—not when Mark was clearly still so gone for his ex. 

It was a pity, he thought, after dropping off a still-blubbering Mark and his very unimpressed bodyguard later that night. Jinyoung wondered if Mark could have been the one, if time had been on their side.

  


♚

  


"What on _Earth_ did you do to Mark Tuan?" was the first thing Jinyoung heard when he woke up the next morning. He opened his eyes blearily to see Bambam march into his sleeping quarters, followed at a more languid pace by his Yugyeom-shaped shadow.

"I don't know," Jinyoung answered after a moment. His throat felt dry and scratchy, so he cleared it a few times. "What did I do?"

"'America's First Son leaves restaurant in tears with Crown Prince,'" Bambam read off his phone. "'Mark Tuan, twenty-four, son of U.S. President Raymond Tuan, was spotted dining with Prince Park Jinyoung Friday evening. According to eyewitness reports, the handsome pair began the date in high spirits but mere hours later Mark was seen escorted out in tears.'"

"Christ," Jinyoung muttered.

"There are pictures!" Bambam continued. "See? And look, hyung—check out these netizen comments:

'Heol, Mark's eyes are red and puffy, but he still looks handsome. ㅋㅋ [+17,805, -102]

'I think Prince Jinyoung rejected him. ㅠㅠ The American boy was crying and clinging on to him, but our Jinyoung was very cold. [+12,463, -6,315]

'This is a national disgrace. How can the future leader of our country behave like this? [+9,592, -3,488]

'Poor Mark. Fighting! [+9,274, -71]—'"

"Enough," Jinyoung said, throwing a pillow at Bambam, who was taking a little _too_ much pleasure in reading out the numbers of up- and downvotes.

Yugyeom caught the pillow in midair, saving Bambam's carefully styled hair. "People are calling you a bully, hyung," he said pointedly, gently tossing the cushion back on the bed. "They're saying you broke Mark's heart."

Jinyoung sighed. "It was already broken." He scooted up to lean against the headboard and told them about the events of the night. "Remember that guy in his pictures? Ex-boyfriend."

"Ooh," Bambam said.

"Mark's still in love with him."

"Aww," Bambam said.

"That's sad," Yugyeom added. "Poor Mark. He probably needs time to heal."

Jinyoung smiled wistfully. "It's the one thing I can't afford to give him."

"You're right," Bambam said, rolling up his sleeves and unlocking his phone. "Sorry, Mark, but we can't waste any more time. Forget the netizens, hyung, we need to find you another man."

  


♚

  


That man turned out to be Choi Youngjae, the young Marquis of Mokpo. Slightly hungover, Jinyoung had left the matchmaking entirely up to his friends, and Yugyeom had chosen this time.

"Because he has a puppy," Yugyeom had reasoned.

Presently, Jinyoung was face-to-face with that puppy, which Youngjae insisted join their date. 

"I can't leave without her," Youngjae said from his doorway. "Coco needs me."

"Um," Jinyoung said, taking a step back into the hallway when 'Coco' growled at him. "Sure."

"Awesome," Youngjae said brightly. He shifted the dog into the crook of his arm and with his free hand shut the door behind them. "Let's go~!"

After the disastrous restaurant outing with Mark a few nights ago, Jinyoung had decided to go for a less intimate venue. They would likely be seen no matter what, and strolling along the Han River seemed like a fun but safe option—especially with Jinyoung's disguised bodyguards trailing a few meters behind them. He hadn't factored in the dog originally, but taking her for a walk on this beautiful day was actually . . . nice.

"Isn't she precious," Youngjae gushed, watching as Coco pranced ahead of them.

"Quite," Jinyoung agreed diplomatically. Coco was now chasing after a squirrel about her size—possibly a tad bigger than her. She had guts, he'd give her that.

"I'm sorry she was a little weird earlier," Youngjae said. "But I think she likes you. I'd shown her your pictures before and she approved."

Jinyoung laughed politely, thinking Youngjae was making a joke. When he met Youngjae's eyes, however, the latter appeared to be serious.

"We had a bad experience," Youngjae explained, "Coco and I. I was dating this guy I really liked, but when I brought him over for the first time, she went crazy."

"Did she," Jinyoung said nervously, trying to keep an eye on the dog while giving Youngjae his due attention.

"Totally. And then _he_ freaked out. That's how I knew he wasn't the one, you know? Coco has this sense about people, and if she didn't like Jackson then he wasn't meant for us."

"Jackson?" It was a name embedded in Jinyoung's memory since he'd heard all about _Jackson_ for nearly an hour in at least three languages. Perhaps Jackson wasn't an entirely uncommon moniker—Jinyoung wasn't sure—but what were the chances he'd hear about two different Jacksons in a matter of days? In Seoul, of all places? In their circle?

"My ex," Youngjae said, pouting. "He was really funny and we always had a good time, but he didn't like my dog."

"Ah." Jinyoung nodded, filing the notes about this _Jackson_ away for examination another time.

"Yeah. Something must've been off with him, you know? Coco's perfect. There's my princess!" Youngjae skipped forward to scoop her up, and Jinyoung couldn't quite control his grimace while they exchanged puppy kisses. Youngjae was adorable and, in her own way, Coco was too, but observing the scene in front of him, Jinyoung could not imagine ever kissing Youngjae—and he thought about how absurd it was, trying to picture himself in a dog's place. But if this relationship were to go anywhere, and he really needed it to, would he have to fight Coco for Youngjae's affection—to be first in his heart?

It would be a battle lost before it even began.

The thing was, ever since he connected with Mark on dating app, and then enjoyed most of their evening together, Jinyoung had allowed a small part of himself to hope for a marriage that wasn't entirely loveless. At least, he'd thought, there should be potential for passion down the line, after they got the official business out of the way. At least, he'd hoped. At least.

"Want to hold her?" Youngjae suddenly asked, presenting Coco to Jinyoung like the cub from _Lion King_. 

Jinyoung smiled and shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Oh." Youngjae looked at Jinyoung thoughtfully before tucking Coco close to his chest. "I see."

"I'm sorry," Jinyoung said, and he truly meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

Between meeting with members of Parliament, taking calls from dignitaries around the world, reviewing and approving ceremonial preparations, signing documents upon documents, visiting orphanages and shelters to build goodwill and restore his image, and, indeed, going on various fruitless dates, Jinyoung was busier than he'd ever been in his life. Still, he tried to visit Father as often as possible, mindful that their time together was limited. In this way, nearly a month passed by, and he was no closer to marriage than he was before.

"Father," he said gently, stroking the king's cool but damp forehead. It was odd, but Jinyoung never knew what condition he would find his father in each time they met. Sometimes he would be feverish; sometimes not. Sometimes he would be deathly pale; sometimes he appeared quite normal, if a little flustered. His cough was consistent, but his health had not appeared to turn for the better or the worst. 

"Father," Jinyoung repeated, sighing. "I've tried, Father, believe me, I have, but . . ."

"I'm proud of you, Jinyoung-ah," said the king, smiling weakly. "I know you're putting yourself out there and trying. I know."

". . . you do?" Jinyoung whispered, feeling something within him break—and heal. In truth, he'd come to renegotiate their deal or ask for more time or give it all up—he wasn't completely sure now—but hearing those choice words from his father made all the hardships seem not so hard after all.

Father nodded, patting Jinyoung's hands. "I know, son, and I'm proud of you. You're doing so well, and you're wonderful . . . you are. Soon, someone will realize that too, and they won't ever want to let you go."

Jinyoung hugged him tightly, taking a deep breath. Father smelled the same as always, not sickly or abnormal, and it somehow gave him comfort, along with the reassurances. "Thank you, Father," he simply said.

  


♚

  


"I thought I told you no more guys with pets." Jinyoung scowled at his phone, hoping they could feel his disapproval on the other end of the line.

"We know that, but—" Yugyeom started to say.

"This guy _doesn't_ have a pet," Bambam interrupted, "at least not anymore. So, technically, he meets your requirement."

"Why am I standing in front of a cat café then?"

"Just give him a chance, hyung," Bambam said, and then he hung up. That little . . . 

Jinyoung sighed and thumbed opened the much-dreaded Purpl app, which he had mostly left Bambam and Yugyeom to navigate. At the beginning, he tried to be more involved in connecting with potential dates and chatting through the built-in messaging system, but lately he'd been so busy—and so jaded—that he just showed up to all the rendezvous arranged by his friends, basically going in blind. It was no wonder that none had worked out, and Jinyoung had been _this close_ to shutting the whole operation down when the pep talk with his father happened and reminded him why he was doing this.

"For king and country," Jinyoung murmured before pulling up his date's profile. "Oh, christ."

_defsoul, 24_ , looked decently handsome, sure, but he appeared to be even more fixated on his cat than Youngjae had been with his puppy.

"I'm going to kill Bambam," Jinyoung groaned.

"What's a bam-bam?" 

Jinyoung spun around—and _wow_ , that one filtered photo did _not_ do defsoul justice. In person, he was tall, broad, and ridiculously chiseled. In motion, he was art.

"Uh, nothing. No one. I think I'll spare him after all. Hi, I'm Jinyoung. You must be . . ."

"Im Jaebum, your highness." Ah, the new Duke of Goyang. Jinyoung had heard of him before—they might have even attended some of the same events—but this was the first time they properly met.

"Jaebum-ssi, hello." Embarrassed that he was caught staring a moment too long, Jinyoung cleared his throat and put on his most charismatic, princely smile—the one he used to say, _Come, peasants, give me your babies to smooch_. "Why don't we speak to each other comfortably?" 

"Sure." Jaebum returned his smile easily and held the café door open. "Shall we?"

  


♚

  


On the first date, Jinyoung learned that both he and Bambam had been correct. Jaebum _was_ obsessed with his cat, Nora, and all cats in general, though he no longer had one of his own for reasons Jinyoung imagined were too painful to share. It was why Jaebum came to the cat café often and suggested it for their date, which Jinyoung thought was kind of sweet. Personally, he didn't love cats any more than he did dogs, but as long as Jaebum had other interests and priorities, he wasn't too worried. It helped, he justified, that Nora wasn't there to intimidate him the way Coco had been.

On the second date, Jinyoung learned that outside of performing his duties to the dukedom, Jaebum liked to sing and dance and make music, which he released under the pseudonym _defsoul_. Jinyoung charmed Jaebum into letting him visit his secret studio and listen to some of his songs and was impressed by his vocals, compositions, and artistry. Jinyoung shared that he used to, in his youth, dream of becoming an artist as well—singing, dancing, acting, all of it—but realized that it was something he could never actually pursue.

"Perhaps in another life," Jaebum said, touching the back of Jinyoung's hand in a gesture of comfort.

"Perhaps," Jinyoung agreed, turning his hand over and catching Jaebum's fingers between his own.

On the third date, Jinyoung learned that Jaebum was also a voracious reader, and they spent hours browsing their favorite secondhand bookstores in the quiet neighborhoods of Jongno-gu. They recommended books to each other, filled their shopping baskets, updated their to-read lists, geeked out over the latest Murakami, and even had a deep discussion about their respective Hogwarts houses (Jinyoung admitted he was more of a Slytherin than a Ravenclaw, which surprised Jaebum, while the latter defended team Hufflepuff with pride). They discovered a lot about each other that day, and Jinyoung thought maybe, just maybe, this was it . . . maybe, somehow, he'd found his soulmate.

On the fourth date, Jinyoung learned that it would be their last.

"My father is ill," Jinyoung confessed. "I am to take over for him in . . . well, about six weeks or so."

"Wow," Jaebum breathed, pulling him in for a hug. "I'm sorry, Jinyoung-ah."

"Thank you, hyung," Jinyoung said, letting his head rest on Jaebum's sturdy shoulder for a moment. He took a deep breath, pulled back, and looked into Jaebum's eyes. "I need to marry before I take the throne."

Jaebum looked confused.

"It's . . . it's our custom," Jinyoung explained. "More than a custom, actually, it's the law."

"What does that mean?" Jaebum said slowly, as if he still wasn't comprehending where Jinyoung was going with this.

"Will you . . . marry me, hyung?"

They stared at each other. Deep down, Jinyoung knew that Jaebum's silence, his shock, was answer enough, but desperately, agonizingly, he waited.

"Jinyoung-ah," Jaebum began after several moments. "I like you . . . you know I do. I like you a lot."

Jinyoung braced himself. "But?"

"But," Jaebum said, frowning, "it's only been a few weeks. We barely know each other."

"I know you," Jinyoung said in a small voice.

"Do you?" Jaebum sounded like he was talking to a child, and Jinyoung hated it, hated the way it made him feel. He wished he'd never started this conversation at all, though he knew he had to. "What's my mother's name? Who's my best friend? What's my favorite color?"

Jinyoung couldn't answer him, and Jaebum sighed. "Do you even love me, Jinyoung-ah?"

Jinyoung couldn't respond to that either.

"I can't marry you," Jaebum said, gently now. Apologetically. Then with more conviction, he added, "I don't _want_ to, not you or anyone. Not right now."

Jinyoung wiped at his eyes. "I understand," he said. He did. It didn't mean he wasn't hurt. But could he fault Jaebum for that? He was the only one racing against time here. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, hyung. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest from the beginning."

"I'm sorry you're in this position," Jaebum replied, patting Jinyoung's shoulder. His touch had an air of finality. He didn't linger.

Jinyoung wished he did, though. Just for a moment longer.

  


♚

  


Jinyoung let himself wallow for about two weeks—as much as he could while keeping up with his intense schedule anyway. After the first week, he gained the clarity to acknowledge that while he hadn't been in love with Jaebum, he _had_ been infatuated with him and with the idea of marrying someone like him. Someone with whom he had so much in common. Someone he could very easily love under normal circumstances. Someone who made him feel like this was all his choice.

By the end of the second week, Jinyoung was ready to give up on the notion of having a choice at all. The deadline of his three-month agreement with Father was looming closer. With the dating experiment falling flat, Jinyoung planned to initiate a marriage of state with a prince or princess from one of their allied nations. Aside from fulfilling his promise and allowing him to ascend the throne, he rationalized, such a marital union would have the added benefit of strengthening ties between the two countries. Best of all, he could let Wooyoung sort everything out—pick one of them, any of them, what did it matter? He just needed it to be _done_.

He was on his way to find the Lord Chamberlain when he was accosted by Bambam and Yugyeom in the corridor.

"You'll never believe who _just_ liked you on Purpl," Bambam said, sounding slightly out of breath. It must have been someone extremely exciting or important for him to run like that—Bambam _never_ risked his fancy shoes.

"Who? Is Prince Harry available after all?"

"No!" Bambam gave him a dirty look, while Yugyeom blurted, "It's Jackson!"

"Jackson?" It was a name Jinyoung hadn't thought about in weeks, but he knew whom they meant immediately, of course. The three of them had spent a while discussing who this _Jackson_ could possibly be after he'd reported back about his date with Youngjae. They'd even gone through Youngjae's uploaded photos and compared his ex with Mark's to determine if he was really the same guy. The results had been inconclusive, but they'd ran with the narrative anyway. "Youngjae's Jackson? Mark's Jackson? Player Jackson?"

"The one and only," Bambam said confidently. "Here, look."

"No," Jinyoung said, shaking his head. "No way."

"Why not?" Yugyeom whined. "You're not exactly in a position to be choosy right now."

Jinyoung frowned. "I _know_ that, which is why I was going to see Wooyoung hyung about arranging— _ow_!"

Bambam pointed with the hand that just slapped the crown prince. "Don't you dare say the words 'arranged marriage.' Don't you dare even _think_ it."

"I could have you _executed_ for this," Jinyoung said indignantly, rubbing his cheek. In truth, Bambam had barely tapped him, but it was the _principle_ of the matter. "Do you know what treason is?"

"Come on, hyung," Bambam pleaded, ignoring the threat. He was serious now. "Don't do that to yourself."

"Do _what_?" Jinyoung countered irritably. But he softened too, knowing that they were only looking out for him. "Listen, guys, I really appreciate your help so far, but it's over, okay? It was over weeks ago, when Jaebum hyung . . ." He paused before smiling bravely. "Anyway, don't worry about me. I've made up my mind. It's time for me to stop being so selfish."

"It's not selfish to want to find someone you love," Yugyeom said softly.

"Maybe it is when you're the crown prince."

They stood in silence for a few moments, letting that depressing thought sink in. Jinyoung knew neither of them could argue it, even as some part of him was hoping they could. 

Then, Bambam spoke up: "Just go on one more date. Go out with Jackson." He unlocked his phone and showed Jinyoung the screen again.

Jinyoung was unmoved. "Why? It's pointless."

"Aren't you curious at all about him?" Yugyeom asked. "I know I am."

Jinyoung stared at Jackson's photo before his eyes trailed down to the quote. _Never give up on things you can't live a day without._ It sounded like Jackson was mocking him and his decision right now, and how annoying was that? Sure, he was handsome, with fluffy brown hair and big puppy-dog eyes, but did his movie-star good looks give Jackson the right to judge Jinyoung when they'd never met? Yet again, Jinyoung felt resentment toward the other man—and toward himself for how irrational and hypocritical he was being. He was aware of it; he just couldn't stop.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to meet this Jackson, once and for all, at least so he could justify these feelings. Jinyoung would see Jackson and confirm for himself that he was the player who broke Mark's heart and terrorized Coco and scorned Youngjae. He'd see that Jackson was a judgmental douchebag who mocked others for their decisions and he'd give him a piece of his mind. Then they'd part ways—Jackson to play with another's heart, Jinyoung to marry whomever Wooyoung chooses and become king—and they'd never have to see each other again. 

"Fine," Jinyoung said, taking the phone from Bambam. Biting his lip and hoping to god he wouldn't regret this, he hesitated for just a moment before clicking on the purple heart. "One date."

  


♚

  


"This was a big mistake," Jinyoung whispered into his phone while waiting for Jackson to buy their tickets. "I regret everything."

"Why?" asked Yugyeom. "Is he hideous in real life? Horrid? Smells weird?"

"No on all counts," Jinyoung replied gloomily, glancing around to make sure Jackson was still busy. "He's _cute_. And energetic, and lovely, and—he smells _wonderful_. I don't know, I was just expecting to see him and have an awkward lunch and maybe scold him a bit for fooling around with people before I excuse myself, but . . ."

"But?"

"But he surprised me! He was funny and disarming and he wanted to take me to an amusement park."

"What? You've never been to an amusement park, hyung; you didn't even want to go with me and Bambam."

"I know! But here I am."

"You're there already?"

"Yes. I am here . . . out in public . . . surrounded by families with their small children . . . and people in animal suits . . . with only sunglasses and a baseball cap as my disguise."

"You sound creepy, hyung."

"Be quiet—oh here he comes, I have to go."

"Ready?" Jackson said, waving the tickets. He also bought tickets for all of their bodyguards, who were similarly in poor cover-ups.

"Um, sure," Jinyoung said, tucking the phone behind his back like he had something to hide. He put on his best baby-smooching smile. _Not creepy at all_. "Let's go."

Jackson seemed to know exactly what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go, so Jinyoung followed him dutifully. He was half-listening to Jackson's excited babbling, half-contemplating the man beside him. He wasn't what Jinyoung expected at all, but Jinyoung was trying to be careful not to let his guard down too much. After all, perhaps Jackson had been this charming with Mark and Youngjae and all of his exes too, before things started going south.

Over lunch, Jinyoung had learned that Jackson Wang was a cousin of the Chinese Emperor. Not in line for the throne himself, Jackson focused on his career as an accomplished fencer with the Hong Kong national team. He had multiple medals and trophies under his belt from all sorts of global competitions, including the most recent Olympics, and frequently traveled the world for both business and pleasure. He'd graduated from Stanford University in the States—Jinyoung supposed that was where he'd met Mark, though he hadn't mentioned it—and spoke several languages fluently. His Korean wasn't the strongest, but he didn't let that stop him from saying whatever he wanted, which Jinyoung found very refreshing.

"Wait!" Jackson suddenly said, holding his arm out across Jinyoung's chest. When Jinyoung looked at him, Jackson's eyes were lit up and he was nearly bouncing. "Jinyoung-ah, let's take a picture here, okay? We should start making memories."

"Here?" Jinyoung asked, looking at the large plastic castle behind them dubiously. "Now?"

"No time like the present," Jackson replied cheerfully. "Wait a minute, I'll ask someone to take our picture."

"Hold on, Jackson," Jinyoung said, grabbing his sleeve. "What if we're recognized? Let's just take it ourselves. Or we can ask one of the guards, maybe—"

Jackson rolled his eyes but patted Jinyoung's face with warmth and good humor. " _Chill_ , your highness. I guarantee you no one knows or cares who we are. Look at us," he said, gesturing to their accessories, "we blend right in. We're camouflaged. We look absolutely average. Don't worry." Then he looked around and called out, "Ahjumma!"

The ahjumma Jackson called upon helpfully took their photo and, as Jackson predicted, did not indicate that she knew—or cared—who they were at all. Jinyoung let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding throughout posing for the photo, and Jackson nudged him in the rib playfully, as if to say, _See? Told you_.

Jinyoung ended up having fun at the amusement park, more fun than he'd imagined he would. Despite Jinyoung's initial reservations, Jackson continued to do and say all kinds of things so unexpected that he could only laugh, which made him feel more and more comfortable throughout the day, even as he was aware of how _strange_ that was. By early evening, however, he realized that Jackson had only taken him to food stalls, to attractions to pose for photos, and on the carousel, train rides, and a few enhanced motion virtual reality rides.

"Want to do the rollercoaster?" Jinyoung asked, looking up at the famous T Express.

Jackson looked nervous all of a sudden. "I'm afraid of heights," he admitted, before shaking his head a little and standing taller. "But . . . if you want to do it, let's go."

"Hey, we don't have to," Jinyoung said, squeezing Jackson's arm gently. "Forget it, we'll do something else."

"Wait," Jackson said, catching Jinyoung's hand. "No, let's do it."

Jinyoung looked at Jackson, puzzled. "Why? I don't want to do it if you're afraid of heights."

"Thank you," Jackson said, bringing his other hand up and using both to play with Jinyoung's fingers. He was looking down at them rather than at Jinyoung. "But today is kind of about stepping out of our comfort zones, right? You said you'd never been to an amusement park before, but you came. Also, I can tell . . ." He looked up at Jinyoung then, smiling sweetly. "I can tell that you took a chance on going out with me too."

Jinyoung swallowed. "How did you know?"

Jackson laughed. "You're not as subtle as you think you are, _your highness_. I saw your face when you walked into the restaurant—you looked like you were attending a funeral or something, like you couldn't wait to get it over with."

Jinyoung flushed. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Jackson said. "Your face changed. _Changes_. It's so expressive, did you know that? Your eyes, especially. Reluctance. Uncertainty. Intrigue. Curiosity. Excitement. Attraction. I can read it all."

"Can you read 'embarrassment'?" Jinyoung muttered.

Jackson laughed again and nodded. "But that's why I want to go on the rollercoaster now," he said earnestly. "With you. You took a risk for me today, now I'll take a risk for you."

"You're giving me too much credit," Jinyoung argued, feeling bad about all the mean things he'd previously thought about Jackson.

"Come on," Jackson said, tugging Jinyoung toward the line for the T Express. "Or," he added slyly, "are you scared?"

_Okay_ , Jinyoung thought, _it's on now_. "As you wish. We'll _see_ who's scared."

It was Jackson, of course. _Of course_ , Jackson was scared. He started fidgeting as they got closer to the front of the line and by the time they were strapped into the first car of the train, his mouth was running nonstop.

"Jinyoung-ah!" he screamed, hooking his arm through Jinyoung's and trying to pull him closer. If the lap bars hadn't been holding them down, Jinyoung swore one of them would be sitting on the other. "Jinyoung-ah! Jinyoung-ah!"

Jinyoung _could not stop laughing_ as they climbed up and up and Jackson's voice pitched higher and higher. As the T Express took them on twists and turns and dips and dives, Jackson pressed his face into Jinyoung's shoulder and released one long, continuous, murderous scream, so loud that Jinyoung's ears were ringing by the time they got off.

"I'm dying," Jackson said, collapsing on the ground as soon as his feet hit the pavement. "I'm actually dead. Go on without me."

Jinyoung laughed and helped him up, letting Jackson lean against him as they limped away from the ride. "You did well, Jackson. Thank you for doing that with me. It was fun."

Neither said anything for a few minutes as they made their way through the park under the light of the fading sun. Then, Jackson whispered, "You had fun today?" Jackson's breath was hot against Jinyoung's neck, but it made Jinyoung shiver, sending chills down his spine.

"I did," Jinyoung murmured, squeezing Jackson's shoulder. "I had fun."

"Would you want to go out with me another time?"

Would he? _One date_ , he'd told Bambam and Yugyeom. One date and then he and Jackson would never have to see each other again. The safe thing to do would be sticking with the plan, saying bye to Jackson, and moving forward with an arranged spouse who would definitely know what they were getting into. The opposite of that would be seeing Jackson again, letting himself fall for Jackson, setting himself up for disappointment when it invariably wouldn't work out, saying bye to Jackson anyway, and ultimately wasting another few weeks on a love game he had no business playing. 

"Hey," Jackson said suddenly, poking Jinyoung's cheek. He was standing in front of him now. "I can read your face, remember?"

"What does it say?" Jinyoung asked, searching Jackson's eyes for the answer. _Tell me_ , he implored. _Tell me how I feel. Tell me what I want. Tell me what to do._

"You're overthinking it," Jackson said softly. "You're getting ahead of yourself, and of us. I'm not sure what's worrying you, but. Stop thinking and just tell me . . . do you want to see me again?"

Jinyoung exhaled. "Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

The amusement park and the T Express were difficult to top in terms of thrill, but anything he did with Jackson became a new and exciting experience, even otherwise really _boring_ stuff. One time they spent three hours tracking down a specific restaurant recommended by one of Jackson's friends, with neither of them reaching for their phones for help or giving up and finding another place to eat because it didn't feel like they'd wasted three hours at all. When they finally found it, the food might have been truly mediocre for all they knew; it tasted wonderful anyway because they were _starving_ and they were together. 

(Also their waitress kind of looked like Emma Watson, which was cool.)

Having learned his lesson from Jaebum, Jinyoung told Jackson the truth of his dilemma as soon as he was able to work up the courage for it. It happened to be that day at the restaurant.

"So . . . you have to be married to ascend the throne?" 

Once again, Jinyoung braced himself for rejection. "Yes," he said, because Jackson deserved to hear it.

But the only thing Jackson said was, "That's barbaric!"

Jinyoung frowned, though he wasn't necessarily offended. It wasn't like he disagreed. "It's the law."

"So what if it's the law? Was the law written by God?" Jackson shook his head emphatically. "Laws were made by humans and humans can change the law. _You_ can change the law."

"I can't do that," Jinyoung said, and then he explained about his promise to the king.

"That _really_ sucks," Jackson said, holding Jinyoung's hand comfortingly. Jinyoung simply let him. "Thanks for telling me," Jackson added after a moment. "It can't have been easy."

"It hasn't been," Jinyoung admitted, and then he told him about Jaebum.

"What an asshole," Jackson said when Jinyoung recounted his failed proposal.

"Stop it, he wasn't," Jinyoung chided. "He's not. It's not his fault."

Jackson wouldn't budge. "He rejected you. Who would reject _you_? Nah, he's an asshole."

Jinyoung smiled, dropping his gaze to their joined hands. That seemed like the perfect opening to see how Jackson would feel about the possibility of getting married, now that he knew everything and knew what getting into a relationship with Jinyoung meant. He wanted so badly to ask, _How about you? Would you reject me?_

But he'd known Jackson for not even as long as he knew Jaebum when he was turned down, and asking Jackson to even consider marrying him at this point seemed no different than breaking up with him—and Jinyoung wasn't ready to do that. Since he decided to follow his heart instead of his head that day at the amusement park, Jinyoung knew he wasn't going to be the one to end it. It would have to be Jackson, and Jackson hadn't run away yet.

So Jinyoung changed the topic. "Speaking of exes, I've heard some not-so-great things about you, mister, from _yours_."

Jackson paused. "Who?"

"Mark Tuan."

"Mark?" Jinyoung couldn't read the expression on Jackson's face. He looked—maybe contemplative. "He's here? How is he?"

"He was here," Jinyoung confirmed. "And he was . . . he was still in love with you. He didn't say any bad things, really, he just . . ."

Ah, now that look—that one Jinyoung could place. It was nostalgic, a little regretful. "We dated in college," Jackson said. "He was great. We just drifted apart. I was always traveling for fencing or something else, and so was he. His dad was campaigning at the time, and Mark had to be on the road with him a lot. It became too hard for us to make time for each other. We were like friends who would check in once in a while, so we agreed to break up. I thought . . ." Jackson trailed off, sounding unsure. "It _was_ mutual. I wanted him to be happier, with someone else."

"I think he can be," Jinyoung said gently. "He just wasn't ready when I saw him. But he'll get there."

"I hope so," Jackson sighed. Jinyoung decided to change the topic again, to distract him.

"Hmm . . . how about the Marquis of Mokpo? Remember him?"

" _Who_?"

"Youngjae. Choi Youngjae."

"Young—oh, with the demon dog?"

"Yes," Jinyoung said, trying not to laugh.

"Aww, Youngjae." Jackson was reanimated. "Listen, I _liked_ him, but his dog scared the crap out of me! It was possessed or something. It kept barking and growling and trying to bite me, and the next thing I knew I was being shoved out of his apartment. And that was that!"

Jinyoung hummed. "I don't know, I've heard that dogs can sense thing about people . . ."

"I swear I have no idea why that dog hated me so much." Jackson pouted. "Dogs _love_ me. I love dogs! I _am_ a dog."

Jinyoung burst out laughing. "What?"

"I am!" Jackson insisted. He stuck out his tongue and held his fists up like paws. "Wang Puppy."

"Stop it." Jinyoung tried to lower Jackson's hands. But _he_ was distracted now, staring at Jackson's shiny mouth and wagging tongue.

"No, I was born the year of the dog . . . hey, you were too! We're both dogs!"

"I am _not_ a dog," Jinyoung said haughtily. "I am a prince."

"Prince of the dogs then." Jackson was still acting like a puppy, pawing at Jinyoung's chest annoyingly. "I am not going to stop until you say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're a dog."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes, a habit he'd picked up from Jackson. "Fine, I'm a dog."

"Wang Puppy, Park Puppy," Jackson said happily, catching Jinyoung's hand again. "We'll be dogs together."

"Idiot," Jinyoung said fondly, and leaned in to capture his lips. _That_ shut Jackson up.

  


♚

  


One date had turned into two, and two dates had turned into three and four. Eventually, Jinyoung stopped counting. They saw each other more frequently than he did with Jaebum over those few weeks that seemed like they happened a lifetime ago, mostly because of Jackson's insistence and Jinyoung's apparent inability to deny him. He didn't want to, anyway, not when Jackson made everything feel so _easy_.

They played in an escape room, over the course of which Jinyoung solved most of the clues while Jackson held up the room's hotline chatting with the staff and demanding praises for his minimal contributions. When they escaped just over the one-hour limit, Jackson was sulking for not having received enough attention from Jinyoung during the game, so Jinyoung rewarded him with many, many kisses, which made Jackson feel a lot better.

They rode a swan boat on the waters of Nami Island, holding hands while they leisurely pedaled the afternoon away. It was so cheesy, but Jinyoung loved it, even when Jackson tried to start a race between them. Jinyoung argued that they _couldn't_ race each other when they were pedaling the same boat, so Jackson initiated a one-sided competition with the other boaters, which they still lost.

They danced together, after Jackson booked them studio time with a choreographer named Keone Madrid. That was one of many things Jinyoung really appreciated about Jackson; he was always trying to help Jinyoung be present and do things _now_ rather than _later_. When Jinyoung shared his childhood dreams of singing and dancing and acting with Jackson, he didn't say _perhaps in another life_ as Jaebum had. He said, "What's stopping you?" 

"I am a _prince_ ," Jinyoung said.

"Oh my god, you need to stop saying that about everything," Jackson said, doing his familiar eye-roll. "Yes, you're a prince. Who says princes can't sing or dance or act?"

"Um, everyone?"

"No _one_ no _where_ no _how_ ," Jackson said smartly. "You can do all of it, sweetheart."

So they danced. And they went to karaoke and even an improv class, where they wore their disguises again, until the instructor told them to take off the glasses and caps. They did, and none of the other students even cared who they were. Surprise, surprise. Everything was a delightful surprise.

They visited Father, who had heard a lot about Jackson and was instantly cheered by finally meeting Jinyoung's bright, sunny boyfriend. Jackson had enough energy to power all of them, and maybe a small country, so the three of them took a walk around the palace gardens, and Father hardly seemed ill at all. He let Jackson cling to his arms and shoulders while they enjoyed the stroll, discussing—of all things—their favorite plants, vegetables, and flowers; the benefits of herbal medicine; and the miracle of organic green tea. Jinyoung only shook his head, exasperated but fond, as Father and Jackson all but ignored him in their excitement to discuss _plants_.

They went out a few times with Yugyeom and Bambam, who also took to Jackson immediately and without reservation. It helped, Jinyoung thought, that Jackson treated them to grilled meat the first time and then took them out for a day of shooting at each other with paintball guns—basically the starter pack for winning over his friends.

And they had sex. A lot. Everywhere. The first time was in Jackson's penthouse, some time between the exes tell-all and the swan boat outing. It was after an evening at a wine bar where Jackson had impressed Jinyoung with his passion and vast knowledge about wine and food pairing, beyond even what Jinyoung knew from years and years of fancy state dinners and high-society events. Perhaps Jinyoung had some kind of unexplored connoisseur kink or food kink or both, because Jackson the sommelier had been so unexpected and mature and _hot_ that Jinyoung, emboldened by his third glass of sweet wine, had lunged for Jackson's lips—again, always, making the first move—and whispered against them, "Take me home, _right now_."

They left their bodyguards in the lobby of Jackson's building and chased each other to the elevator. As soon as the door slid shut, Jinyoung had Jackson pressed against the mirrored wall, kissing him hungrily, and Jackson had to reach around him to punch the button for the penthouse level. By the time the door drew open again, Jinyoung already had Jackson's sweater half off his shoulders and was quickly undoing his own shirt as well.

"Why are there—so many—buttons," Jinyoung whined, flustered, trying to reattach his lips to Jackson at the same time.

Jackson laughed, pecked the corner of Jinyoung's mouth, and stayed his hands. "Here, let me."

He undid Jinyoung's shirt while walking backward, guiding Jinyoung through his tastefully decorated apartment. At least it looked nice in Jinyoung's peripheral vision—he wasn't sure—he couldn't take his eyes off Jackson's bared torso to confirm. 

At last they made it to the bedroom, where Jackson sat down on edge of the king-size mattress and pulled Jinyoung closer. Jinyoung came forward easily, sitting on Jackson's lap, and felt Jackson's hardness press against his bottom.

"Hi there," he whispered, rocking forward and back a little.

Jackson groaned, pushing Jinyoung's shirt all the way off and gripping his waist firmly. Jinyoung couldn't tell if Jackson was urging him to move again or telling him to stop. "You're going to kill me, your highness."

"So dramatic as always," Jinyoung sighed before joining their breaths again. They kissed for a while, less urgently than before, the heat between them building slowly, deliciously. Jackson's mouth was sweet and cloying; he tasted like Sauternes and foie gras. He was everything beautiful and decadent and lush, and Jinyoung hadn't want someone the way he wanted Jackson right now in a long, long time.

He nipped Jackson's lower lip playfully, which made Jackson groan again and turn over so that Jinyoung was now lying back on the bed with Jackson hovering above him. 

"I really need to get my mouth on you," Jackson pleaded. Jinyoung nodded, so Jackson unzipped his slacks and dragged them down Jinyoung's thighs. Everything got tangled up around Jinyoung's ankles, which made him laugh as Jackson grumbled, tugging off his shoes and socks and pants and underwear. Finally freed, Jinyoung stretched his legs for a moment while Jackson undressed himself the rest of the way before settling down between Jinyoung's knees.

"Oh, hi there," he repeated, smirking. Jinyoung whacked Jackson's shoulder with his calf. Jackson grabbed it and pressed his lips against Jinyoung's skin. He added more heated kisses up Jinyoung's thighs, on the soft, tender areas, until Jinyoung managed to gasp out a frustrated, " _Jackson!_ "—and Jackson finally took pity on him, closing his mouth around the crown of Jinyoung's cock.

Jackson's mouth was as good on his dick as it had been everywhere else, warm and sweet and perfectly tight. He was generous and yielding, relaxing his throat so Jinyoung could fuck it with little upthrusts of his sharp hips. Even through the haze, Jinyoung could hear the sounds of Jackson's hand moving rapidly around his own cock, and he thought, _That's not fair, I want to get my hands on Jackson's prick too._

Before he could voice his complaint, Jackson's other hand made its appearance when a finger glided along Jinyoung's perineum down to his hole. It pressed gently against his rim, not entering, merely rubbing the delicate skin there, but combined with the wet suction around his cock, it was enough to send all the right signals to Jinyoung's brain. He came with only a half-cry of warning, finishing in Jackson's incredible mouth—and knew of nothing else but the rise and fall of his breath for the next few moments. 

He felt the resurgence of Jackson's kisses on his belly and his chest, his clavicle and his neck. Then he felt Jackson's lips on his own, sweet and salty, and so damn dirty.

"Unfair," he puffed.

"Hmm?" Jackson murmured, kissing Jinyoung again.

"I haven't even touched you . . . I didn't touch you at all. Did you come?"

Jackson smiled. "Yes."

"Without me."

"Stop pouting, your highness," Jackson said, rearranging them on the bed so they were closer to the middle of it rather than hanging off the side. "You can touch me now."

So Jinyoung did, and Jackson did too. Their hands were joined around their cocks, pressed groin to groin and moving languorously since they'd already taken the edge off the previous round. Jinyoung made sure Jackson came first this time so he could watch Jackson's face while he did, and his pleasure was so sexy and sensual to witness that it gave Jinyoung the push he needed to follow Jackson over the crest.

"Tomorrow," Jinyoung murmured sleepily after Jackson had cleaned them up and tucked them into bed.

"What about tomorrow?" Jackson replied, snuggling up to him under the warm covers.

"Tomorrow . . . I'm going to ride your prick," Jinyoung yawned, "so hard . . . until . . . you both beg for mercy."

Jackson kissed his smile into Jinyoung's shoulder. "If you say so, your highness."

  


♚

  


A month with Jackson felt both like an eternity and not enough time. Jinyoung could hardly remember what his life was like before Jackson invaded it and stamped himself on every corner. Jinyoung wanted them to stay exactly as they were for as long as possible, forever, maybe, but he knew the Earth would not stop revolving for them. So when the day came that Jinyoung could no longer put off having a certain conversation with Jackson, he was prepared for change—and terrified of it.

He had a pretty good sense of how Jackson felt about him and how serious he was about their relationship. Still, marriage was a big step, and they were so young, and after all, a month wasn't _that_ long in the relative span of their lives. Even if he couldn't remember them well, he'd had many, many months before Jackson, and he would have many, many months after Jackson, if Jackson were to disappear from his life. Jinyoung hated the thought of "after Jackson," of the idea that there would be such a period at all, but he also couldn't stop replaying his only other proposal and immediate rejection, those unwavering words appearing again and again in his mind:

_I like you, but . . ._

_It's only been a few weeks._

_Do you even love me?_

_I can't marry you._

_I'm sorry._

"Jackson hyung isn't Jaebum," Yugyeom said firmly when Jinyoung shared his fears with him and Bambam. "And how you feel about Jackson hyung is different from how you felt about Jaebum."

"You love him," Bambam guessed.

"I do," Jinyoung admitted. "I love him."

"Then tell him," Yugyeom said. "Tell him how you feel."

In the end, Jinyoung decided to do it in the gardens, surrounded by the plants Jackson adored so much. He didn't make it elaborate, in case he was rejected, and he chose a spot with a convenient path, in case either of them had to make a quick escape. It was hardly romantic, but Jinyoung had always been more practical than anything.

"Ooh, Joseph's looking extra green today," Jackson commented as soon as he arrived.

Jinyoung's mouth twitched. "Joseph?"

"This shrub here," Jackson explained. "We named it last time, remember? God, you didn't listen at all, did you? Well, meet Joe. And here's his friend, Clarisse, the pear tree . . . that's Mia, the rosebush, and Lilly, the lily . . . your father named her, by the way, he's real creative. That one's Nicholas—"

"Jackson," Jinyoung said.

Jackson stopped. "What's wrong?" he said. "You look scared."

"I am."

"Why?"

"It's been a month." Jinyoung swallowed. "Only a month but . . . it feels longer, doesn't it?"

Jackson nodded slowly.

"It also feels . . . really, really short. Too short of a time for me to say this, maybe, but Jackson, I . . . I love you."

When had Jackson gotten so close? One minute Jinyoung was confessing, and the next he was wrapped up in Jackson's arms, his face pressing against Jackson's soft, coffee-colored hair.

"I love you too, Jinyoung-ah."

"Jackson," Jinyoung whispered, holding on to his waist desperately. "Will you marry me?"

For the second time in Jinyoung's life, the silence after that question sounded so loud, so immensely devastating, that it shattered his world.

Jinyoung started lowering his hands, pulling away from Jackson's hold. He was tired, so tired; he didn't think he'd ever felt this tired before. 

But Jackson didn't let him go. He held on tighter.

"Jinyoung-ah," he said, quiet and sad and urgent. "Listen to me. I _will_ marry you. I _want_ to marry you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Jinyoung laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "But?"

Jackson sighed, shifting back just enough to look in Jinyoung's eyes. "I just don't want to do it because you're on a time limit, or because you _have_ to. It's not right. I want to marry you when _we_ want to, when we're ready."

"I have to be ready," Jinyoung spat, shoving Jackson off him. He could barely see Jackson's hurt look through the tears clouding his eyes, but he knew it was there. It _should_ be. "I'm ready now, and I'm asking you to marry me. _Now_."

"This isn't a rejection," Jackson said, even though it sure sounded like one. "I love you. I love you, Jinyoung-ah."

"You're saying a lot of words, but none of it is yes," Jinyoung said. He was being mean, and he knew it, but _fuck_ , he was so hurt. For all his doubt and fear and worry, he really didn't think Jackson would do this to him. "You knew this was coming. You knew what dating me meant. You knew what I'd have to do, and you made me fall in love with you anyway. How could you . . . how could you be so cruel?"

"I love you," Jackson repeated, trying to step closer again.

"Not enough to marry me." It was the last thing Jinyoung said before taking that exit route he'd planned so well.


	4. Chapter 4

Every step was heavy and painful, but Jinyoung had to keep walking. He marched straight to the Lord Chamberlain's office, knowing he had to ask for an arranged marriage before he could change his mind. This was his intention after all. He knew he'd come back to this point, just as he knew Jackson would destroy him. He'd known it all along and he let it happened anyway.

He was a fool.

But it didn't matter, because he was back on track. Wooyoung would find him a perfectly suitable spouse, probably today if he wanted, and Jinyoung would marry and become king. Jackson would become a distant memory in a year, two years, five years, ten years. The "after Jackson" period had begun. In fact, the "after Jackson" period wasn't a period as much as it was just his life now. Life, after Jackson.

He'd raised his hand to knock on Wooyoung's door when Father's voice on the other side made him froze.

"Do you think he's asking Jackson to marry him today?"

Jinyoung grimaced. It seemed like he was going to disappoint Father either way.

"I don't know, your majesty," came Wooyoung's reply, "but I still think you should come clean."

"I will, after they announce the engagement."

"It isn't fair to him. To either of them, rushing into marriage when they have no reason to. They're so young."

"I may not be dying anytime soon, but I'm still stepping down, Wooyoung-ah. Jinyoungie needs to marry so he can take my place."

Whatever Wooyoung was going to say next was interrupted by Jinyoung throwing the door open.

"Jinyoung-ah," Father said, standing up.

"Your highness," Wooyoung said, following suit. Jinyoung ignored him, seeing his father with clarity for the first time in _months_. Suddenly it all made sense. The mysterious, undiagnosed illness. The complicit doctors and nurses and aides who kept everything vague. The inconsistent symptoms. The evasive behavior. The lies, the lies, the lies.

His father wasn't dying.

Jinyoung was beyond angry, but a part of him was so relieved that he could barely think for a moment, only feel. Everything he'd gone through since that fateful night after coming back from Australia—all the good moments and bad ones—was mired by his preemptive feeling of loss. The loss of another parent. The loss of life as he knew it. The loss of a powerful, unconditional love. For months, it was his grief, his motivation, his reason for doing _everything_ , and now that he knew it wasn't real, he felt . . .

Free.

Behind him, he heard Wooyoung close the door on his way out. Jinyoung took a deep breath. "You lied to me," he said, once he was alone with the king.

"I exaggerated an illness," Father admitted. 

"You _lied_. You're not dying."

"I will one day." At Jinyoung's sharp look, Father said sheepishly, "No, I'm not dying. Not right now."

"Why?" Jinyoung asked desperately. "Why would you do this to me?"

"I did it _for_ you, Jinyoung-ah. So you can take my place. Become the king you were always meant to be."

"You couldn't have done that without _faking_ a fatal disease? What is wrong with you?"

"Okay, maybe it wasn't the greatest idea—"

" _You think_?"

"—but you hadn't been with anyone for so long, Jinyoung-ah. You were lonely, you were bored, and I wanted something better for you. I thought I was killing two birds with one stone. I wanted to step down, so you can step up, and you _have_. You've done so well over the past few months, and I know you're going to be a great king."

"That doesn't justify what you did."

Father sighed, sitting down again. "I know, Jinyoung-ah. I know. I'm sorry."

Jinyoung sat down too, running a hand over his face. He felt like he'd aged ten years in just the past hour or so. He wasn't sure if he could accept Father's apology and forgive him just like that, but . . . "I'm glad you're not dying," he said stiffly.

"Me too," said the king. They sat in silence for a while, then he said, "Hey, one other good thing came out of this elaborate scheme, right? You met Jackson."

 _Jackson_. Ouch, that would hurt for a while.

"I think we broke up," Jinyoung said. "Christ, I think we broke up over _nothing_."

"What?" Father said, grabbing Jinyoung's arm. "What happened?"

"No," Jinyoung sighed, "it wasn't nothing. He didn't want to marry me out of obligation, and he was right. I wouldn't want that for him either, or for us."

A few moments passed in silence. Then Father asked, delicately, "Do you love him?" 

Jinyoung nodded. "More than perhaps anyone else."

"Does he love you?"

Jinyoung nodded again, feeling his eyes water. He missed Jackson already, missed him _so much_.

"Then you wouldn't be marrying out of obligation," Father said. "If you love him, and he loves you . . . wouldn't you be marrying for love?"

Jinyoung wiped his cheek. "I guess. I don't know. He didn't see it that way. It's a matter of timing. And having to do it at all, because of the marriage law."

"Ah."

"He said it was barbaric," Jinyoung told Father, laughing. "I think he hates our law. I hate it too."

"Well . . . the law is the law."

Jinyoung remembered his early conversation with Jackson about the same matter. "Yes," he said slowly, "but who made it?"

"Must have been one of our ancestors," Father said, scratching his head. "Grandfather? Great-grandfather? Great-great?"

"How _great_ could they have been, to come up with such a stupid law?" Jinyoung shook his head. Jackson had been right, about everything. "Well, if someone made it, then someone can change it. _I_ am going to change it."

"You are?"

"Yes," Jinyoung said, standing up. He faced his father with steely determination. "I will forgive you for deceiving me, Father. Maybe not right away, but I will forgive you, and I will take your place as king—on _my_ terms."

  


♚

  


Jinyoung spent the next few days drafting and preparing his motion for Parliament. He still missed Jackson a lot, constantly, but Jinyoung didn't let himself call him or text him or reach out to him at all, in case his plan didn't work. He was gambling everything on this move, but if it failed then he wanted Jackson to be free. Jinyoung might have a duty to the crown and country, but Jackson didn't, and it wouldn't be fair to saddle him with such obligations. He deserved better than that.

At last came the day and time when Jinyoung stood in front of members of the Parliament to make his speech. Father stood behind him on one side, Wooyoung on the other. Jinyoung knew that Yugyeom and Bambam were somewhere out there in the crowd, which was also open to the public and the press.

"Welcome," Jinyoung said. "Up until a few days ago, I'd been planning to get married in order to succeed my father and become king. But I realized—in fact, I was shown . . . by someone who means a lot to me . . . who made this all possible—that the only reason I was getting married was because of an archaic law, and that didn't seem like a good enough reason. 

"My father has ruled without a queen by his side for quite some time, and I think . . . I think he's done an incredible job as leader of this country. Beyond that, he's done an incredible job raising me . . . as a single father. And I am so grateful for everything he's done. Our family, small as it may be, share the same values as yours. 

"Whatever family you're a part of . . . whether you have two parents, or one, or none. Whether you have a dad and a mom, or just dads, or just moms. Whether you were raised by grandparents, or aunts and uncles. Or strangers, who became your family. Or friends, who became your family. Whatever family means to you, we share the same values, and the same hope for our future.

"I hope that the relationship between the royal family, the government, and our people won't be that the people carry us on their backs but that we can put our arms around each other and improve ourselves. That is my vision for our nation, and I believe I will be a great king. With or without a spouse.

"I feel in my heart and soul that I can rule South Korea, a land I am so proud to call my home. It is with this pride, instilled in me since birth, that I move to abolish the marriage law, as it applies to present and future rulers of our country.

"Will anyone second my motion?"

Jinyoung looked each member of Parliament in the eyes, one after another, as a quiet murmuring spread across the venue. He was serious and earnest, and he needed this to work. When he caught Lord Ok Taecyeon's proud gaze, he knew he would be successful.

"I second the motion," said Taecyeon.

"All those in favor of abolishing the marriage law say, 'Aye,'" called Prime Minister Kim Yubin.

"Aye!"

"The ayes have it," Yubin told Jinyoung. "Congratulations, your highness."

"Thank you," Jinyoung said, suddenly wishing Jackson was there to hold his hand in this moment. "Thank you all."

  


♚

  


"Congratulations, hyung!" Bambam said when he and Yugyeom found Jinyoung afterward.

"You did it!" Yugyeom cheered, giving Jinyoung a hug. "I knew you could."

"Thanks, guys." Jinyoung grinned. "Sorry I wasted your time going through Purpl and those guys and all that mess. Turns out it wasn't needed after all, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't say it was a complete waste," Yugyeom said. He was smiling, nodding at something over Jinyoung's shoulder. "Turn around."

As with everything else when it came to Jackson, Jinyoung _knew_ he would be there, could feel his presence and his heat as soon as Yugyeom said it. It was still somehow unexpected to see him standing before Jinyoung, perhaps because he hadn't set eyes on the other man in days. Hadn't even told him Jinyoung planned to abolish—not just change—the marriage law, hadn't invited him to come.

And yet, Jackson was here. And he was all Jinyoung could see.

"You were amazing," Jackson said hoarsely. He looked tired, subdued, but still so, _so_ handsome. And so proud. "What you said up there . . . you were incredible. You _are_ incredible. You’re a star."

"It's all because of you," Jinyoung confessed, inching nearer. "You inspired me. You gave me courage. You made me change—for the better. I'm a better person, because of you."

"Shut up," Jackson said, closing the distance between them. "If you get any better than you are now, then I'm a trash."

"What does that mean?" Jinyoung asked, half-dazed. Jackson was holding him now. Jackson, warm and solid and his.

"It means," Jackson said, connecting their mouths. "I love you." Kiss. "I want to marry you." Kiss. "But not now." Kiss. "Because you are a strong, independent ruler who don't need no man." Kiss. "But tough, because you have one anyway." Kiss. "And I'll be here, waiting." Kiss. "Until the time I can make you mine." A kiss to end all kisses.

  


♚

  


"I am," Jinyoung said fondly, after. "Yours."

Jackson nudged his forehead against Jinyoung's. "I know, your highness."

  


END

  



End file.
